


Combat

by Greenlady, Jen Hall (Greenlady)



Series: Twenty/Twenty [5]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: F/F, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-03-14 12:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13589853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenlady/pseuds/Greenlady, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenlady/pseuds/Jen%20Hall
Summary: UPDATE!!! So I finally got back to writing the first case Starsky and Hutch work on together. This starts at Chapter Four and continues.  I'll be writing more soon. Sorry for being so slow, but I had a term paper to write, and now I have a final exam to study for.  It's all great fun and I love it, but it's hard to switch from that to writing fan fiction. I'm managing, though. :-)Starsky and Hutch engage in various forms of combat, as cops and as civilians.  References to non-con sex in Hutch's past.  This is a story in the Twenty/Twenty series.  We're getting closer in time to the original story in that series:  Ghost Car, set in 2020.  Combat is set about 2012. Starsky and Hutch are both gay, and totally out of the closet everywhere.  They are registered as Domestic Partners and live together, and are totally faithful to each other.





	1. Chapter 1

They’d been cops for a couple of years now, no longer raw recruits, if still considered rookies by more experienced officers. At Metro they were totally accepted, and there had been no subsequent incidents of any kind, not even graffiti on a locker, let alone attempted murder. It seemed that the attack on Hutch had alarmed the entire police force, and the top brass had threatened that heads would roll if anyone even looked at a gay fellow officer cross eyed. 

They both wanted to work together. It was an ache in Starsky’s bones. He wanted Hutch beside him in the car, on patrol. He wanted Hutch walking the streets with him in lock-step. He wanted Hutch’s shoulder against his in battle. 

His dreams of the wonderful day when they might be partners in all things were what kept him going on the long, hard patrols, and he knew Hutch felt the same. In the meantime, they were learning how to be cops. They still tutored each other every chance they got. Hutch helped Starsky with Spanish and written reports. Starsky finally broke down and taught Hutch some Krav Maga moves, making him promise not to use them unless absolutely necessary. 

‘Most of the time, they’re not necessary, Babe. Krav Maga – the way we used it in the IDF – is meant for combat. War. You won’t need it to arrest drunk drivers, or shit like that.’

‘I understand, Starsk. I don’t want to kill anyone.’

‘Well, even in combat, the idea isn’t necessarily to kill. The idea is to terminate a serious threat. If you can do that without killing, more power to you.’ 

They’d driven out into the desert, which reminded Starsky of Israel a little, and he’d found a nice sandy area in which to tutor Hutch in the ferocious moves of hand to hand combat he knew. He’d been hesitant at first, but soon their practices became a great joy in both their lives. They were becoming closer. More and more like one being. 

It was strange, thought Starsky. Not ‘one being’ in the sense of one soul in two bodies. There was no feeling of being torn apart when they separated. No feeling that they knew and shared and understood everything about each other. It was more that they loved and appreciated everything about the other. That they respected each other’s differences, loved the things they disagreed about, as well as the ways they were alike. They respected and honoured each other as separate and equal people and took the most delicious pleasure in exploring those differences. 

They argued a lot, even fought occasionally. And yet Starsky would not have changed a thing about Hutch, even when the man drove him crazy. There were times he couldn’t understand how he could keep his sanity when Hutch would spout some opinion that was so far distant from Starsky’s own it was like the man was alien or something. And he would think to himself, ‘How can you be so wrong, you big dumb blond? You beautiful, sweet, loving idiot?’ Love and anger inextricably mixed at times, but the love always won out. 

Hutch was coming more and more out of his personal, hellish closet. Starsky supported him both when he tried to reclaim his memories and when he preferred to let it ride. They felt there were few surprises left to resurface at some inopportune time. They knew Hutch had been abused, to the point of rape, at the gay conversion camp. They knew he’d been strangled as a punishment for continuing to have gay feelings and not announcing his total heterosexuality. He’d recovered memories of the rapes and the beatings and being starved and emotionally abused, and they’d talked it all out, while they lay together, their bodies joined intimately, so that Hutch couldn’t possibly feel alone and abandoned. Small hidden memories were still popping up, but so far Hutch had dealt with all the sad and depressing aspects of police work with as much calm courage as anyone else. Though he had yet to kill anyone, and Starsky thought that was a mercy.

There was one thing that Hutch confessed roused his anger to a frightening degree at times: People – mostly men – who refused to take a simple ‘no’ for a final answer. He would vibrate with anger if someone persisted in trying to cruise him long after he’d given them a brush off. 

One day this came to a head – so to speak – when they went to a party at the house of friends. Starsky had noticed – as he almost always did – when one of the other guests tried to catch Hutch’s eye and continued to do so after Hutch indicated his complete lack of interest in returning the interest, even to the point of not noticing the interest. Hutch had explained to him once that it wasn’t that he was incapable of noticing or appreciating other people expressing sexual interest in him. But his experiences as a hustler, and as a victim of molestation in the camp, had made even a suggestion that he engage in casual sexuality unpleasant for him to an extreme degree. 

‘It makes my skin crawl, Starsky,’ he told him. ‘Men who rub their cocks against me, paw at me, or even just look at me like…like I’m a thing they can shove their cocks into in exchange for a smile or… Women shake their tits at me sometimes, and that’s annoying, but they do seem to be trying to get my approval at least before they maul me. So, I just learned to turn it all off. It’s…it’s white noise, you know? Meaningless.’

They’d all been drinking beer, at this house party. Dancing and drinking beer, laughing and drinking beer. At some point in the festivities Hutch had announced he’d had too much beer and needed to piss some away. He went off to find the bathroom. Some part of Starsky’s developing detective brain noted that the guest who had been making eyes at Hutch got up and followed him a minute later. 

Okay, thought Starsky, Hutch is a big boy and can take care of himself. Let’s see…and a minute or two after that he came out of the bathroom. Alone. His eyes icy. His voice icy. ‘I just got a text from Metro, Starsky. They’re a bit short of traffic cops and they want us to come in.’

Starsky grinned at Hutch. ‘Traffic, huh? Oh joy.’

‘Yeah, can’t wait. Let’s go. Sorry, guys. Duty calls.’

They headed for the door, but before they got there, the other man ran out of the bathroom, screaming abuse at Hutch. He was covered in talcum powder, something that smelled like mouthwash, and it looked like Hutch had used a bar of soap to wash his mouth out with. At some point in their altercation, Hutch had gotten in at least one punch to his jaw. The left side. ‘You fucking son of a bitch!’ the other guy screamed.

‘I told you to keep your hands off me,’ Hutch informed him, in that calm, icy voice. ‘You should have listened. News flash! Touching someone when they’ve clearly told you no is sexual assault. I let you off easy. It won’t happen again.’ Hutch stomped off toward the car.

Starsky walked up to the guy, casually, and punched him in the jaw. The right side, so he’d have a matching set. ‘You should’a kept your hands off my lover,’ he explained. Then he strode off while their hosts ran after them apologizing. 

‘It’s not your fault,’ said Hutch. ‘We just have somewhere else to be.’

That ‘somewhere else’ turned out to be a spot out in the canyons, far from all civilization, where Starsky proceeded to drive Hutch insane with lust, by a torturous method he’d just devised. 

‘Can I touch you here?’ he asked. ‘Is it okay if I touch you like this? Pardon me while I put my finger in your ass. I truly think it would greatly add to your pleasure, Master, if I suck your cock as far down as I can into my throat. Is that okay?’

Hutch was begging for release before Starsky granted it to him, and his screams of ecstasy echoed around the canyons, unmuffled by pillows. He was shaking from head to foot by then and kept sobbing his gratitude in terms that tore at Starsky’s heart. Starsky managed to keep calm by picturing Brother Bob being roasted over a slow fire.

When the last distant echoes had died down, and they lay together peacefully, Hutch told him, ‘He touched me. He touched my cock. I felt him touch me. I hate it when that happens, when I’m not prepared. I started to get an erection, and he told me that meant I wanted it. I could have killed him, Starsky. I could have committed murder.’

‘He assaulted you. I don’t think it would have been murder.’

‘But the rage I felt frightened me.’

‘Am I helping, Darling? Do I help at all? I don’t know if it’s enough, what I try to do.’

Hutch lay silently for a long moment. ‘You do so much to help me, Starsky, I can’t put it into words. But it’s not fair to put it all on you,’ he said. ‘I know that. But I can’t talk to anyone else about the camps yet. I’m so sorry, Starsky. I’ll try…maybe I could talk to a counselor about being molested, but not mention the camps? Maybe a woman counsellor? I’ll try.’

Starsky imagined cutting open Brother Bob while he was still alive and pulling out his intestines to burn in the fire. He’d read about tortures like that, and thought they were appropriate for anyone who molested children. 

Maybe I should find a counselor, too, he thought, before I try to put these tortures into action.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight spoiler for a scene in Chapter 2, because I don't want to mess up the rhythm of that scene with explanations. There is a scene in this chapter in which Starsky might appear to continue with sex after Hutch has seemingly refused. I want to assure readers that this is not the case. The guys have been lovers now for years, and they have access to each other's bodies to touch and kiss without having to ask permission. Hutch would never regard Starsky giving him oral sex as rape, and if Hutch had said 'No!' Starsky would never have continued. Hutch says, 'I don't want...' and he means he doesn't want Starsky to 'serve him' like that, in the position Starsky has taken. Starsky knows this, because they understand each other perfectly, but he continues out of love. :-)

Starsky began to hear things from his fellow officers about Hutch as a partner. Most of the time he was partnered with Martin Rogers, but as time went on, they’d both endured try-outs with other officers, to give them varied experiences and to see what kind of partnerships worked best. The general opinion seemed to be that Hutch was a good cop – outstanding, in some people’s opinions. He was incorruptible, supportive of his partner, able to work for long shifts without tiring, kind – he’d give you the shirt off his back, was one assessment – and brave as Hercules. 

One thing he didn’t hear was that Hutch was easy to work with. 

‘Don’t get me wrong, Starsky,’ a fellow cop told him. ‘I’d trust him with my life, and I have. He’s a good man to have at your back. I was…forgive me for saying this, but I was a bit leery at first about working with a gay cop. Please don’t report me to the brass, but I was. He’s changed my mind entirely. The guy is unstoppable. But… can’t you get him to be a little less…’

‘A little less what?’ asked Starsky.

‘I don’t know, he’s…grumpy about weird things. Touchy. Stiff necked. I can’t figure him out sometimes. But he’s a good cop, which is the most important thing, right?’

Right. Bang on assessment, thought Starsky, who had his own problems with figuring Hutch out sometimes, and could only sympathize, but it all just underlined the necessity for them to be partners in the future. That wasn’t going to be an easy goal to attain. Married couples and domestic partners were usually barred from being partners at work. They would have to make a strong case for why they should be allowed. 

The first thing to do was to make detective. They needed to expand on their reputations as good cops and push to be added to the Zebra teams where their various strengths would work together. Once that became apparent, they could ask to be on the same team, and then show how brilliant they were. That was the plan – or so Starsky thought, and Hutch had seemed to concur. The problem was getting Hutch to play his own part in all this. 

Starsky had been studying for his detective exams until he thought his eyes would fall out. Hutch had checked out the texts and cheat sheets and shrugged and that was the end of it. 

‘Hutch, Hutch, what the hell? Get on it!’

‘I have a headache,’ was the most logical response he was ever able to get from him before the infuriating man changed the subject. Some of the subject changes Starsky had no beef with, but even he could see that there was only so much sex they could engage in when time was ticking, and they needed to make detective goddammit. 

After some deep thought, Starsky came to the amazing realization that Hutch felt insecure about his own chances of passing the exams. When the lightbulb went on in Starsky’s head, at first he didn’t believe it. How could Hutch, who was brilliant, a Harvard Graduate for fuck’s sake – Starsky never tired of bragging about this to his friends and colleagues – how could Hutch doubt he could pass a BCPD detective exam. An exam that far stupider people – Starsky could name several examples off the top of his head without breaking a sweat – passed every day. 

He finally got Hutch involved in studying for the exams by asking his help in his own studies. 

So. They were back on track there. Then the man started hiding things from him again. 

The first time the phone rang and Hutch answered it and hung up without saying a word didn’t raise red flags. That happened with everyone, and Starsky didn’t even ask what was up. The second time was the next day, and Hutch was crabby with him when Starsky asked. With anyone else he might have thought that Hutch was cheating on him, or something. But there was no sign of embarrassment or fear in his lover’s eyes, and Starsky was at a loss for an explanation of why Hutch would ever do such a thing. He knew his own sexual power. No one could give Hutch more than Starsky could, or even come close. The very idea was ridiculous and Starsky put it out of his mind.

For a time, the calls stopped. Then one day when Hutch was out, a call came that Starsky answered. ‘Starsky and Hutch residence. Starsky speaking.’ There was an indrawn breath. ‘Hello? Hello?’ Starsky enquired. The line went dead.

Okay. This didn’t look good. He checked the last incoming call. The prefix told him it was from a phone in Minnesota. 

Minnesota. Where Hutch was born and grew up and was sent to a concentration camp to be tortured. Yeah. Family members maybe calling to talk over fun times? Yeah. And he was Jesus Christ. He called someone he knew at Metro who owed him a favour and got her to check on the origin of the phone number. A half hour later she got back to him. The number was registered to a Mr. Hutchinson, she said. ‘Maybe Hutch’s father?’

Yeah, thought Starsky. Hutch’s daddy and mommy are calling. Daddy and mommy as in about 29 years ago, Daddy Hutchinson fucked Mommy Hutchinson and nine months later out popped a little baby who grew up to be a beautiful, intelligent, kind, brave man but with no help from scum like you evil monsters from hell. Who the fuck has a kid like Hutch must have been and then turns him or her over to be raped and starved and….?  
Starsky thought of calling the number and asking them, but he didn’t want to go over Hutch’s head like that until it became absolutely necessary, and he doubted he could discuss the weather with them without issuing threats in obscene terms. In the meantime, he recorded the number in his personal phone directory under S for Satan.

A few days later, Starsky took his detective exams, and passed. He called Hutch to give him the good news and lay on some pressure for Hutch to do the same. His call went to Hutch’s cell voice mail and he left a message, asking his lover to call him back ASAP. Several hours and several phone calls later he got tired of waiting and left one final message.

‘Hey, Blondie, I’m heading off to The Pits to give Huggy the good news in person. Come join me, huh? I hope you’re okay. You don’t usually take so long to return my calls. See you soon?’

The Pits was one of their favourite clubs. It was run by a man who had become a good friend of theirs and was one of those joints that was popular with a clientele both gay and straight. He was talking and laughing with Huggy, surrounded by a large group of friends, both men and women. Hutch walked in the door, and their eyes met.

God help me, thought Starsky. This is not how I planned it. Not now. But life is not fair.... 

One of the men by the bar patted Starsky on the shoulder, and even from across the room Starsky saw Hutch’s eyes go cold with rage. He bounced to his feet and strutted toward Hutch, grabbed his arm, and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Hutch tried to escape the embrace, but Starsky hung on for dear life. He ground his cock into Hutch’s. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s go out back.’ 

The other people by the bar had taken one look at Hutch’s face and found other things to do. He pulled his lover out behind the club, into the dark, rainy alley, and found a doorway that wasn’t too dirty, though by the look on Hutch’s face he wouldn’t have noticed. Starsky pushed Hutch up against the wall and pulled down his zipper. He sank to his knees before his lover, down on the cold, muddy ground. 

‘Starsky? I don’t want….’

‘Shut. Up,’ he explained. Hutch’s cock was flaccid and cold, but Starsky soon warmed it in his hands and mouth and roused it to fullness. He ran his tongue around the edge and cradled Hutch’s balls in his hands. He poured every ounce of adoration he felt for its owner into his lovemaking, and soon was listening to Hutch’s soft moans. When Hutch’s knees gave way, Starsky caught him in his arms and cradled him while he cried. 

‘How did it go down?’ Starsky asked at last.

‘Some drug pusher. We tried to arrest him, and he pulled a gun on Rogers. I had to…had to….’

‘Of course you had to.’

‘Everyone keeps telling me it was a righteous kill, but it made me sick.’

‘Of course it did. You on administrative leave for a few days?’

‘Yeah. I’m having counselling tomorrow. With Alex Delaney.’

‘Good. He won’t push you. Just tell him how you feel.’

‘Yeah. That should be fun for him to listen to.’

‘I’m off work for the next few days, too. I passed my exams.’

‘So, you rank me?’

‘Yeah, and I’m pulling rank, Officer. Let’s get up off this dirty pavement and go home.’

‘You were the one who dragged me out here, Detective.’

‘For a reason. The way you looked…God, Hutch. Did you think I was making out with that guy? He just put his arm on my shoulder. ’

‘I still feel sick,’ said Hutch. ‘It just looked like…not that you were cheating on me, but…like you were going away somewhere. I don’t know where. Just away.’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ said Starsky. ‘Except home to bed with you. And then you are going to come clean. About your parents. Why the hell have they been calling?’

Hutch was silent for a long moment. ‘I don’t know why, Starsk. I hang up when they call. And I’ve been deleting any messages they leave.’

‘Good plan,’ said Starsky. ‘I’m the detective in the family now, so you just leave it to me.’


	3. Chapter 3

Starsky pushed Hutch to use his administrative leave to study for his detective exams, using his brief – he hoped – window of opportunity to pull rank on him. Hutch argued that Starsky’s authority didn’t extend outside of working hours, but Starsky insisted it did, and played it for all it was worth, including in bed. They both enjoyed that a lot, though Hutch pretended he didn’t. Out of bed they employed those titles – Detective and Officer – to tease each other unmercifully. 

‘I hope Hutch makes detective soon,’ Huggy complained. ‘Because you guys aren’t as opaque as you think.’

Hutch had come home from his counselling session with Alex Delaney and informed Starsky that he’d been diagnosed with a sex addiction and had decided to go cold turkey – a decision that lasted all of thirty seconds -- and he confessed later to making it all up to tease Starsky. ‘Oh, really, Officer Hutchinson,’ said Starsky, in his snarkiest Bronx voice. ‘It’s insubordination to lie to a superior officer. You just lie there while I devise a suitable punishment. Hmmm. What about this….?’

Of course, this was all a way to deal with the sudden change in their status from two equals to superior/subordinate – something they’d known would happen eventually, unless they’d been lucky enough to write their exams on the same day. Starsky wondered if Hutch’s hesitation in studying for his exams had sprung completely from his insecurities, or did he want Starsky to be the boss in their relationship for a while? As a way to test the dynamics of that relationship? 

They were essentially both alphas who could take the beta role for a time without pain or embarrassment, and Starsky liked it that way. So, he hoped, did Hutch, and really, he couldn’t see Hutch ever liking it any other way. Hutch was too stubborn, too bossy, too…ornery to take orders from anyone full time. Starsky felt a kind of genuine pity for anyone who tried to run Hutch’s life….

But still, that insecurity remained. Sex addiction? Maybe that was a case of truth masquerading as a joke, but if Hutch was addicted to sex…it was love masquerading as sex that he needed to mainline. Starsky poured an endless river of love into Hutch’s veins every day, but he made this acceptable to Hutch by dressing it up as sex. Hutch would never have believed the love was real otherwise, and this broke Starsky’s heart at times. 

Speaking of love in Hutch’s life and the lack thereof….

He’d asked/begged/bribed his contact at Metro to do some research on Hutch’s family and keep it under her hat. ‘Here you go, Starsky,’ she said, handing him a folder. ‘This is all I could find for now in the time I had. All paper copies, no digital trail. I shredded the digital trail. It’s weird to think that paper is more secure these days, isn’t it? Thanks for the roses and candy, by the way. God! Why’d you have to be gay?’

‘I was born that way.’

‘Well, that’s a tragedy for the womenfolk, but nice for guys like Hutch I guess. And congratulations on making detective, Detective. How’s Hutch taking it by the way? -- That’s a really dirty laugh, Detective Starsky. Go wash your mouth out with soap, naughty boy!’

The folder held copies of Hutch’s birth certificate, his parents’ wedding certificate, copies of school reports, driver’s licenses, news reports about his father’s career as a shyster…excuse me, lawyer, thought Starsky…a lot of stuff that filled in the details of Hutch’s former life. It was all grist to Starsky’s mill, and he was grateful, but it didn’t help much at the moment to answer his burning questions about why those….aliens masquerading as parents had dared to disturb the peace of his lovely home.

There were also photos of two young women. One was labelled Mrs. Vanessa Hutchinson. She was beautiful, for sure. On the outside. 

So, you’re the bitch who married my lover for his money, thought Starsky. I’d crawl across miles of broken glass just to touch his hand one more time before I died, and you…

The other was of a much younger girl, taken about five years ago, judging by the hairstyle. A high school graduation portrait? She bore a certain resemblance to Hutch. Maybe a sister? 

Starsky checked more deeply into the information in the file. Yes. Hutch had a sister, named Barbara. Starsky had a flash of memory from long ago, of Hutch making a sneering reference to Ken and Barbie that he’d refused to explain.

Reference annotated, thought Starsky. I’m not about to mention this sister to Hutch any time soon. File her away under ‘possible ally, if she’s not the homophobic monster her parents are’. It’s a faint hope, but we all need hope, as Harvey Milk said. 

A few days later Hutch was finally writing his exams. Starsky had received news of his first assignment as a detective, and spoken with his new partner, who had professed himself to be honoured to work with him. So far, so good, thought Starsky. He was doing some research online into gay conversion camps and trying hard to keep from throwing the innocent computer against the wall, when the phone rang.

‘Starsky and Hutchinson residence,’ he said firmly. ‘Detective David Starsky speaking.’ Silence, for a long moment. ‘Hello! This is Detective Starsky speaking. Who is this?’ It was frustrating that their phone was unable to show them the names of callers from out of state, though it did record the number, thank God. ‘Hello!’ he said one last time. ‘Are you aware that harassing phone calls are against the law, and I know your number.’

‘Hello,’ said a shaky voice. A female voice. A young one.

‘Well, hello. Thank you for answering. What can I do for you?’

Another silence. Then, ‘Who is this. Please?’

‘I told you. My name is David Starsky. Detective Starsky. This is the Starsky-Hutchinson residence. Officer Ken Hutchinson is currently writing his exams to be a detective. He is unavailable at the moment, but if you want to leave a message….’

‘Ken? Ken Hutchinson? Hutch?’

‘Yeah,’ said Starsky. ‘All that and more.’

‘So…he really is alive? He didn’t die of AIDS?’

‘No,’ said Starsky, in his most professional police officer voice. The one he used on mental patients and bombed out druggies walking the streets talking to themselves. ‘Ken Hutchinson is currently alive and well and living in Bay City, California. Is there anything else you want to know?’ Okay, he wasn’t being very tactful in speaking to that possible ally he’d tendered a faint hope for, but really…. 

‘Ken…Ken is my brother,’ the young woman said in a great rush, like she was scared to release this information to the public but felt it behooved her.

‘That’s nice,’ said Starsky. ‘And it only took you…let’s see, about four years to pick up the phone and call him?’

‘I thought he was dead,’ the young woman wailed. ‘And he didn’t try to call me.’

‘Well, maybe he had his reasons, which I’m not about to discuss on the phone with a stranger. So, let’s ignore that for now and you tell me why you called today, okay?’

‘I thought he was dead. Of AIDS. Then someone showed me an article from the paper about a story from California. Something about homosexual police officers. And one of them was named Ken Hutchinson. I looked online for phone numbers for people named Hutchinson and found some K. Hutchinson listings. I called them all. The other ones answered and told me they weren’t my brother. When I called this number, someone just hung up, so I called back, when I got the chance. I kept asking, ‘Ken? Is that you?’ No one answered. Then you answered, and you said…’

‘Starsky and Hutch residence. Yes.’

‘That was always his nickname, among his friends, and I called him that too. That’s when I thought it might be him.’

‘So… that’s very clever and persistent of you. You sound a lot like your brother. What do you want to do now?’

‘I’d like to talk to him.’

‘About what? He should be home soon, and I’ll ask him what he wants to do.’

‘Home? You…you live together?’

‘Live together. Sleep together. Shower together. It’s no secret. Everyone knows. Call back in a few days. If he doesn’t want to talk to you, I’ll let you know. And in that case, don’t ever call this number again… Why? Because don’t ever call this number again, that’s why. If he agrees to talk to you, fine, but that’s up to him.’

‘I’d just like to…Oh! They’re home. I have to hang up now, but I’ll call back. Bye!’ And she hung up.

Hutch got home a couple of hours later, triumphant. He flung himself down on the sofa beside Starsky and put his head in his lap. ‘Wow! Thank God that’s over. It was tough, but fair. I passed, at least, and I’m a detective. Whew.’

‘Was there ever any doubt? How could you doubt yourself? I knew you’d pass.’

Hutch lay there, looking up at Starsky, his beautiful blue eyes full of love. His mouth was so kissable, so delicious. Starsky had to bend down to kiss it and taste that beauty that he hadn’t tasted since this morning, which felt so long ago. ‘I knew you’d pass,’ he said again.

‘That’s why I was worried,’ said Hutch. ‘You have so much faith in me, and it scares me sometimes. I’m afraid of failing and destroying your faith. I can’t bear to even imagine not living up to your faith. What would I have left, if I lost you?’

‘You’ll never lose me,’ said Starsky, with utter simplicity, as if there were no other possible answer, since there wasn't. ‘I’m here forever. Listen, remember I told you I’d look into those phone calls from your family? They were from your sister, Barbara. She wants to talk to you. I told her that was up to you. Let me know what you want to do, okay?’

Hutch was silent for a long moment, looking up at him. ‘I don’t know, Starsky,’ he replied, slowly. ‘We were friends when we were kids, but after the… after the camps, it was like…like she thought I was an alien, or insane or something, and she hardly spoke to me after. I don’t know if I want to risk it.’

‘Then don’t,’ said Starsky.

‘But she is my sister. We did used to be friends. Maybe… maybe we could be friends again. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk.’

‘She’s going to call back in a couple of days. I will check her out, do an interview or something.’

‘Like she’s a perp?’

‘Exactly. If she checks out, I’ll set it all up for you if you like. I’ll be here while you talk to her, if you like. You have my total support.’

‘If I like?’

‘If you like, or even if you don’t like, I’m all yours. I have your back. And your front and your sides. I am your comrade in arms, forever.’


	4. Chapter 4

It was Harry Wilson and Starsky who first took the call. They’d been partnered about three months, and Hutch had been working with Rachel Ward for two. 

Both partnerships were successful so far. Things were fine on the home front, as well. Barbara and Marcia had settled in to the guest bedroom in the apartment. They’d found part-time jobs and were helping with the bills. Looking for full-time jobs and their own apartment of course, but in the meantime, they were all happy with the current arrangement. 

Starsky and Hutch had a little less sexual freedom than they’d had before, but they worked out a timetable that let them have the apartment to themselves about once a week, and then there were unscheduled times when the girls were out on a date or visiting friends. And they would always reciprocate by letting the girls have the apartment on their own. Fair’s fair.

Hutch and his work partner had just closed a serial rapist case, which had been hard on Hutch, but Starsky had been able to keep him steady throughout. His own cases had been less stressful. Robberies and murders. The usual. Hutch’s appreciation for his support during the investigation had been the stuff of legends, in Starsky’s opinion. 

‘You’re very cheerful today,’ Wilson noted.

‘Yeah, I am,’ said Starsky. He began to hum a cheerful tune as evidence.

‘It’s annoying,’ said Wilson.

‘I can’t help it.’

‘I assume your partner – your domestic partner, I mean – has something to do with this?’

‘Whatever gave you that idea?’

Wilson sighed. ‘When are we gonna start acting like real police partners, you know? Like on TV and in the movies? We’re supposed to engage in personal banter.’

‘Banter?’

‘Yeah, talk about our love lives and so on. I tell you about my wife and kids, and you just make noises and tell me nothing.’

‘What is it you wanna know?’ Starsky was laughing. He’d been holding out on telling Wilson anything real about Hutch since they were partnered up. Wilson had seen Hutch from a distance, but that was it so far. It was fun teasing his work partner about his domestic partner. Wilson’s curiosity was going to make the guy burst soon.

‘Just…anything, so I know the guy is for real,’ said Wilson.

‘Oh, he’s for real,’ said Starsky. ‘Here’s a bit of data: he’s gorgeous.’

‘Wow! That means nothing to me. I’m really not interested in how other guys look. I’m straight, Starsky.’

‘Well. He’s really smart. Has a….’

‘…a degree from Harvard. We all know that, Starsky.’

‘Okay, so you do know something about him. What’s the problem?’

‘All units in the vicinity of Park and Warner. 10-54 at 2280 Park Drive. Repeat. 10-54 at 2280 Park Drive.’

‘Copy that. This is Zebra One responding to 10-54 at 2280 Park Drive,’ Wilson told Dispatch.

Starsky turned off onto Park Drive as Wilson started the siren and put the mars light on the roof of the car. The call didn’t seem to be an emergency, but it was always better to be safe in cases of ‘Possible Dead Body’. The person might not be dead. Or there might be a killer loose. Better not to get stuck in traffic.

There were no other units when they arrived at the address -- some kind of office building. A 10-54 was not considered to be an emergency call, on the level of a shooting or robbery in progress. Wilson and Starsky were alert and ready for anything as they entered the building, however. They didn’t draw their weapons but opened their jackets to make it easy to access them. Starsky went on ahead, checking out the situation for Wilson, who was his superior officer. 

They found a bunch of employees huddled in the foyer and identified themselves. One of the women seemed to be in extreme distress.

‘I got a phone call,’ she explained. ‘This guy…he told me there was a body out back of the building. At first….’

‘We didn’t believe it,’ said a second employee. ‘But Helen, she thought she should check.’

‘It seemed such a strange thing to say, in a crank call. I mean, people do make crank calls, but we never had one like this. So, I went out the back and looked around, and at first I couldn’t see anything wrong. Then….’ Helen started crying again. ‘It’s horrible. Horrible. She was…It’s murder, I know.’

‘What do you want to do, Wilson?’ asked Starsky. ‘You want me to go out to check? You want to stay here and get the whole story?’

Wilson nodded. ‘You do that, partner,’ he said. 

‘I’ll show you where…where it is,’ said one of the other employees. ‘I’m Cindy,’ she added. ‘I went out to look for Helen when she took so long checking, so I know. It’s no accident.’

‘Okay,’ said Starsky. ‘But stay behind me. I doubt the murderer is hanging around, but let’s be cautious.’ He stood in the back doorway to the building, which led out onto a kind of driveway/unpaved parking lot. There were a couple of small cars parked in the lot, but otherwise it was broken blacktop and weeds. At the furthest distance from the door, there were tall weeds, some large rocks, and behind them, a fence. Past the fence, was another empty lot and a warehouse. 

‘Over there,’ said Cindy. 'Just behind that line of weeds, in front of the largest rock. It doesn’t look like anything at first. But then….’

‘Then you see it’s a leg, yes. Thanks, Cindy. Why don’t you go inside now and let me….’

But Cindy seemed drawn to the sight, as people can be drawn to horrors. Perhaps to prove it wasn’t as bad as they’d first thought. Or to prove they were stronger than the horror that had at first terrified them. She stepped out onto the blacktop with him and headed to the body. 

As Starsky got closer, he could see how terribly the body had been damaged. Poor Cindy didn’t need to see this again. He was glad he and Wilson had been the ones to take this call. Hutch had been suffering enough with the serial rape case he and Ward had been on, without having to deal with the mutilated bodies of…yes, it did appear from the body that it was a woman, and that she had been raped. 

‘Look, Cindy, I appreciate your help and your company, but you don’t need to view this again. Why don’t you go inside and….’

Cindy turned back toward the door and gave a little startled scream. Starsky turned to look himself. A tall man stood in the doorway. A tall blond man. Outlined in the doorway, looking distant and contemplative. So beautiful. God, Hutch, thought Starsky. I was just thinking how fortunate you were not to be here, and here you are. 

He put his hand very carefully on Cindy's shoulder and gave a gentle little push steering her toward the door of the building. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘That’s just my partner. My other partner. He’s a cop, too. Don’t worry. Thanks for your help, okay?’

Cindy finally headed back inside. 

Hutch nodded at her as she passed, then strolled up to Starsky. ‘Wilson told me you were back here,’ he said. ‘What have you got?’

Starsky stepped back a bit, and indicated the body.

‘God! Starsky.’

‘I know,’ said Starsky.

‘Rachel and I just wound up some details on another case, and we were driving back to Metro. The 10-54 call went out, and we were nearby, so we took the call. Didn’t know you guys were on it. Wilson suggested we give you a hand. And I wanted to see you.'

They gazed into each other’s eyes for a long moment. A moment that soothed away all pain, as it always did. After that moment, they came back to themselves and began to work. 

They didn’t get too close, or touch anything, but they walked around the perimeter, staying on the blacktop, where it was unlikely they’d mess up any footprints. 

‘It looks like she was raped,’ Hutch noted. 

‘Her head was bashed in by a rock of some kind,’ said Starsky. ‘I don’t see any blood-stained rocks around, so the killer probably took it with him.’ He knew his lover was memorizing everything about the crime scene as it was now, before the forensic team came and started taking it apart. ‘What do you think, Hutch?’

They’d never worked a case together before, and yet they clicked into place with each other, as Starsky had always imagined they would. 

‘This isn’t the work of an expert,’ said Hutch. ‘It’s too messy, too chaotic. Where the body’s placed, how it’s placed. Are those drag marks?’ He pointed off to the side a few yards.

‘Looks like,’ Starsky agreed. ‘He dragged the body from somewhere else? A car, maybe? Then…yes, then along behind those weeds to place it. Doesn’t seem planned very well to me either.’

‘The phone call seems strange, too. Do you think it was the killer made the call?’

‘Not an innocent bystander, that’s for sure,’ said Starsky.

‘Maybe someone who found the body but wants to use it for all the fun he can get out of it.’

‘Yeah,’ said Starsky. ‘And who’s sicker?’

They exchanged a long, tender gaze again, and then uniformed cops and the forensic team came out to join the party.


	5. Chapter 5

Their respective partners had come out to join them, and they were all discussing how to handle the case. Should Ward and Hutchinson continue to help with this case, which, though filled with horrific violence was still only one rape/murder case that didn’t really need four detectives, or should Hutch and his partner go off and do their own thing? Starsky was all for Hutch hanging around, because he felt more like himself with his real partner beside him. But he said nothing, because it would sound so needy and selfish. He could work alone or with another partner, after all.

Wilson and Ward seemed strangely hesitant to split up the foursome, all things considered. He’d been a bit surprised that Wilson had sent Hutch out to work with him at the start. And when the other detectives had joined them to check out the body and help set up the forensic team’s work, he’d seemed to immediately accept that Hutch was one of them. Starsky thought Wilson was studying Hutch and his interactions with Starsky. It was natural, he supposed. Wilson had been growing more and more curious about Starsky’s relationship with his lover. 

Starsky never hid the fact that he and Hutch were a couple, but he was uncomfortable talking about Hutch and his personal affairs with other people. Hutch was a secretive person. Starsky himself had known few facts about the man until nearly a year into their relationship, and they’d been sleeping together. Starsky was more open and into exchanges of information. He didn’t want to find himself divulging private information about Hutch with his partner because they’d grown used to such conversations. And so he kept watch over his mouth along with his heart and his hands – and his cock, for sure. Absolute loyalty and faithfulness unto death. That was the private vow he’d taken. 

Talking about their relationship was…iffy. Kind of between states. Was it too personal to say they loved each other? No, he decided. That they had some form of sex every night, sometimes more than once, if they possibly could? Yes, oh yes. He wouldn’t tell anyone that. Though Barb and Marcia had probably figured it out by now. They were family, though. 

And so Starsky had brushed off most of Wilson’s questions. He turned it into a kind of joke, to keep things light. He could have set things up so they all met and got to know each other long ago but came up with excuses. 

Now his work partner and life partner were in the same space. Starsky turned to look at his lover, looking at him through the eyes of a stranger seeing him for the first time.

It hit him like a ton of bricks all over again how beautiful Hutch was. Tall. Long-legged. Natural blond hair, so soft, with little wispy curls around his neck. Eyes like the ocean under a summer sun, set in the face of a slightly naughty angel. His body…well, Wilson shouldn’t be looking too closely at that, after all, but his body was slim without being skinny. Every part well shaped. He filled out his off-white pants nicely, in every way. With those glorious pants he wore a black shirt open at the neck, and a caramel leather jacket. On his left-hand ring finger, he wore the ring Starsky had given him for his birthday last year. Not a wedding ring, but a signet ring with their initials intertwined. They had decided to save the wedding rings for when they could actually get legally married. 

Hutch was sharing some of his speculations about the case with Wilson and Ward. ‘I know this is all purely speculative,’ he said, in that soft deep voice he used with friends and colleagues. Not the purring voice filled with open love he used with Starsky. Not the honeyed, deliciously intimate voice he used with Starsky in bed. Starsky loved every tone in every voice Hutch ever used. He leaned back against a convenient tree to listen. ‘These are just my own feelings about the case, do with them what you will. I think the killer is young. I think he picked up the girl and raped her and killed her after out of fear. I think this was his first time. He probably enjoyed it and wants to do it again. I think he lives and/or works nearby because he was comfortable enough to come here and dump the body.’

Wilson had been listening closely. ‘You don’t think she was killed there?’ he asked, pointing to the body still lying in the weeds. 

‘No. That was a messy killing. The weeds aren’t disturbed enough. And then there are the drag marks.’

‘Good. You guys are involved with the case now.’ He pointed back and forth between Starsky and Hutch. ‘You want to keep on working with us on it? Neither of us has a major case open right now. We could work together, see how it pans out, and we can always split later if the situation warrants.’

‘Sure!’ they said in unison. ‘Love to.’

‘Well, we don’t love the case itself,’ Hutch clarified. ‘Ugly. But we’d love to work together if you guys don’t mind. Rachel? Sir?’ That was Hutch’s politeness. He didn’t have to call Wilson ‘sir’. But Wilson took it as the honour it was. 

He smiled at the younger man. ‘Call me Harry,’ he said. 

Starsky smiled happily. At that moment, Cathy came running out of the building. ‘We’ve had another phone call,’ she said. ‘The same guy.’

Both Rachel and Harry Wilson waved them toward the door. ‘You go deal with this,’ said Wilson. ‘We’ll carry on here.’

They followed Cindy back into the office. Helen was sobbing. She looked up at their entrance, and just seemed to immediately latch onto Hutch. Starsky had seen this happen before, and he was secure enough to enjoy it rather than let it bother him. He walked up to her with his partner, and said, ‘This is Detective Hutchinson. Tell him what happened, okay?’

‘Oh! Detective. He told me I was next. He threatened to kill me.’

Hutch knelt at her feet and took her hands in his. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘We’ll protect you. Hey, the place is crawling with cops.’ Helen smiled through her tears.

This was something new in Starsky’s experience. Hutch was using a voice he hadn’t heard before. The kneeling and taking a woman’s hands in a protective hold, that was new. The offer of protection. All non-sexual. Nothing romantic. Just the actions of a knight errant protecting the innocent. It was something Starsky himself would have found a bit beyond him. He was a warrior, through and through, he thought. His love was almost entirely given over to his lover and holding the hands of crying women was not his forte. 

Hutch patted Helen’s hand once more, then asked if he could sit beside her. ‘Tell me what the guy said to you?’ Starsky brought him a chair and stood leaning against the wall beside Hutch as Helen talked.

‘I answered the phone as I always do. Like I did this morning. I said, “Best Deal Equipment.” We rent and sell all kinds of equipment at good prices. We do get a few crank phone calls, but nothing like these.’ Helen shuddered, and Hutch patted her hand again. 

‘It must have been scary when this happened. So out of the ordinary,’ he agreed, and Helen relaxed again. ‘Tell me about the first phone call.’

‘He said, “My name is Ted Danvers. There’s a dead body behind your building. You should call the police to report it.”'

‘And at first you thought it was a prank, of course. But then you figured it was best to check. That was very brave of you. So, the next call?’

‘That was…um two minutes ago, now? He said, “This is Ted,” and then…and then… he said, “The future is uncertain…the end is near…you are going to die."’

‘Like I said,’ Hutch replied. ‘We’ll protect you.’ He looked up at Starsky, who knew immediately what he wanted, and nodded. Starsky went to set up a phone trace on the office phone lines. He could hear Hutch comforting Helen with that sweet protective voice, and let it course through his own veins. 

One of the other employees had been watching them ever since they’d entered the room. Starsky met his eyes and nodded acknowledgement that they were gay but didn’t react otherwise. After he set up the trace he went back to Hutch and put his hand on his lover’s shoulder for a moment. The other guy nodded and smiled, quite happily. He looked impressed. 

Rachel Ward and Harry Wilson came back into the office and they discussed the case together with Starsky while Hutch continued to sit and talk to Helen. Then the phone rang.

‘If this is Ted,’ said Hutch. ‘Keep him talking as long as possible. The trace will go through right away, but he may tell us more about him. I’ll listen on this line here. Okay?’

Helen answered the phone. ‘Best Deal Equipment.’

Starsky came up close to Hutch and listened along with his lover. ‘This is Ted again. I told you you’d die next. I put dynamite in your building and it’s set to go off in 30 seconds.’ 

No, you didn’t, thought Starsky. Most bomb threats are BS. But we need to get everyone out of the building anyway, just in case. He could hear Helen talking to the caller. Ted apparently hung up on her. Hutch grabbed her hand and shepherded her out of the building, along with everyone else. They all hid behind the police cars and counted off the seconds, but there was no explosion. 

‘Okay,’ Hutch commented. ‘This creep is having way too much fun.’


	6. Chapter 6

Hutch was waiting for news that they had the address of the creep with the bomb threats. He was waiting impatiently, of course. Pacing up and down the weed-filled parking lot. Starsky was sitting at the little, old picnic table watching him pace, because he could do that all day. They didn’t have all day, and once they got the address the action would heat up, or at least warm up, so he was getting his fun now. They’d all agreed that they couldn’t just go charging in, badges waving and guns blasting. Whoever the creep was, he’d committed a crime by making a bomb threat, but he might be involved in the murder and rape of their victim, and by letting him know he’d been identified, they’d tip their hand and lose any evidence he might give them if they let him ride. 

One of the Best Deal Equipment employees came out of the building with his lunch, probably to sit at the picnic table. He saw the forensic team still working and started back inside. 

‘Hey, Stewart, come join me for a moment?’ said Starsky. Stewart was the young gay man who’d been watching him and Hutch earlier. ‘The body is gone.’

‘Oh. Okay. Good. I guess I’d forgotten about all this, for some reason. How do you guys handle it all the time?’

‘Not easy. I used to be in the army. It gets easier, but it never gets easy, and that’s a good thing, you know?’

‘Yeah. I can see that.’

Stewart came over to join Starsky at the table. He sat down rather gingerly at the far end of the table, keeping an eye on Hutch. Hutch the panther, hunting his prey, was very different from Hutch the protector, kneeling at a lady’s feet while she cried. This new Hutch was pretty intimidating.

Stewart was no suspect. He was Black. The victim was white, and statistically speaking it was unusual for a rapist to rape someone outside of his ‘race’. He was gay. The chances of an openly gay man committing a rape/murder on a woman were slim. He couldn’t be the guy who’d called in the body, because he’d been right there in the room when the call came. They’d crossed Stewart off their suspect list early. 

‘So, you guys are….’

‘Hutch is my lover, yes.’

‘And you work together?’

‘We’re both cops. Same precinct. We met at the Police Academy.’

‘Oh.’

‘This is the first time we’ve worked a case together, though. It’s been good so far.’

When they decided to be out at work and in the world in general, they had hoped to not only be object lessons to heterosexuals that gay people were humans who had lives and loves and could be useful members of society, they had also hoped to be role models in some small way. 

‘Even animals need role models, Starsk,’ he remembered Hutch telling him. ‘Heterosexuals have role models everywhere, their entire lives. But even they screw it up. Then they turn on us and tell us we can’t possibly have successful lives in any way unless we get the cure. That we don’t even know how to love. When I came out, after I broke up with Vanessa, I had no idea how I was going to manage. I wanted someone to love who would love me back.’

Starsky had pulled him even closer, resting his forehead against Hutch’s, telling him he was known and understood, and loved in every way.

‘I found gay bars and clubs easily. The gay community centre was helpful. Lots of pamphlets about my legal rights, how to avoid AIDS and other STDs. Even pamphlets telling me love was possible for me. But role models for how to find love and keep it were thin on the ground. If we don’t know other couples…the guys I hooked up with were willing to show me how to give blow jobs and how to fuck, but how to love? Not so much.’

‘It’s the club scene, yes,’ Starsky agreed. And yeah, he was sure Hutch had met lots of men willing to show him how to fuck, and to be fair, they’d done a good job there. ‘Straight people have their own club scene, but they have other models, too. In real life, in the media. All that encouragement to find someone and make a family.’

 

So, they’d decided they would try, in their own small way to change that. Someone had to try.

Hutch paced to the end of his imaginary chain away from Starsky, turned and started back. He looked more relaxed this time and smiled across the parking lot. He noticed Stewart but didn’t look worried. Probably happy that Starsky wasn’t sitting alone. Hutch showed few signs of jealousy for any reason. Most of the time his trust was total, though when he was stressed out he could be demanding. Starsky remembered the night they’d talked about their ideas of relationships, and how they thought theirs should work. 

‘We, we should talk about it,’ Hutch had insisted. ‘Now that we’re out in the real world with jobs and bills to pay and so on. We can’t keep making it up as we go along. I mean, what if we develop different ideas of how we should live, and start arguing over them. I don’t mind arguing, but not over…not about….’

‘I know,’ Starsky had agreed. ‘Let’s see if we’re on the same page from the beginning, at least. We love each other. We’re living together. Where do we go from here, right?’

‘Yeah,’ Hutch replied. Then all his dreams seemed to pour out of him, as if he couldn’t stop, or was afraid to stop in case Starsky laughed and began to puncture all his balloons before he had a chance to enjoy them. Dreams based on mythic warrior lovers. Vows of faithfulness unto death. Beliefs in the sacredness of physical love. ‘I can’t bear it when people put down sex as if it were dirty or evil. It hurts me. I mean it’s a physical pain. I want…I want us to always treat it like….’

‘Like a sacrament? Beautiful and pure?’

‘Yes, and just between us? Could you?’

‘Could I what, darling?’

‘Could you promise? At least for now? For a while? Would that make you angry?’

Starsky had looked into his lover’s beautiful blue eyes, that were filled with more longing than he’d ever seen in anyone’s eyes. This man, who had suffered so much sexual torture and still believed in the sacredness of love and sex, was asking him if he could promise to be faithful for a while? ‘I can promise you to be faithful for the rest of my life,’ he said. ‘I am yours. Forever. No question. When we make love, it’s sacred. It always has been sacred, but now that’s official. I’ll give you all the sex you need, any time it’s possible for us to have sex, whenever you ask.’

He felt Hutch’s entire body relax in his arms. ‘Same here,’ his lover had whispered. The joy he expressed over that little vow, as if Starsky had promised him the earth, and all the riches within it…but then Hutch cared nothing for power and riches, only for love.

Now Hutch stopped in his tracks and looked down at his cell phone. He looked up at Starsky and beckoned him over. Starsky got to his feet and joined Hutch to read the text message he’d received, informing them that they had an address for the origin of the phone calls and the bomb threat. ‘It’s the warehouse behind the Best Deals office building,’ said Hutch. ‘Fits right in with our theories.’

‘Yes,’ Starsky agreed. ‘What do we do now? We can’t just go running over there accusing everyone of terrorism.’

‘We need someone we can trust, who can let us in after hours to check the place out. Let’s go confer with Rachel and Harry, okay?’


	7. Chapter 7

Robert Barnett, office manager of Furniture Warehouse. Cleared of suspicion for the phone calls, because it had been established he’d been in a meeting with buyers at the time they’d taken place. 

‘We’ve set it up to meet with him at 8 PM tonight. You guys want to handle that?’ Rachel asked them over the phone, in a conference call. 

‘Sure,’ said Starsky. ‘What should we do in the meantime? Forensics is almost finished here, and they don’t need us to supervise.’

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. ‘We have a possible ID on the victim,’ she said, finally.

‘So soon?’ asked Hutch.

‘The possible ID is of a high school student, named Victoria Scott. Sixteen. She didn’t come home last night, after being out with friends. Her mother reported her missing within a short time. She’s a reliable girl who has never done this before. Her description of what she was wearing matches what our victim was wearing.’

Starsky looked at Hutch. Their eyes met and locked. ‘You want us to notify the family we might have their daughter at the morgue?’ he asked Rachel. ‘We can do that, right Hutch?’

Hutch nodded. They were here to learn, to learn everything about being a cop, and one of the things about being a cop was that sometimes you had to tell people their loved one had been raped and murdered. 

Hutch was quiet on the drive to the address Rachel had given them. His arm rested along the back of the seat, as Starsky drove. Sometimes his hand stroked Starsky’s neck or ruffled his hair: a comfort to them both. 

Physical closeness, born out of love. The knowledge that at the end of the day he wouldn’t have to go out and find someone to work off the building sexual tension with. The person who had wound him up to fever pitch would be the one to satisfy his needs. In the IDF, those men had been friends, but not real lovers. What would it be like with a lover like Hutch? And Hutch had never had experiences like Starsky’s, but he would learn. Starsky would show him. Their intimacy was not going to lessen because they were working together, it would deepen and grow, if they had enough time. 

As they parked out the front of the little house, Starsky could see the door was open. A young woman, about 20, maybe a little older, stood in the doorway. She saw them get out of the car and stepped out onto the porch. ‘Have you found her?’ she asked. ‘Have you found Vicky?’

‘Let’s go inside,’ said Starsky. ‘We need to talk.’ He showed her his badge. ‘This is Detective Hutchinson,’ he said, indicating Hutch. 

‘And this is Detective Starsky,’ Hutch reciprocated. ‘Could we come in and talk to you?’

‘This is about Vicky, right?’ the girl asked as she led them into the living room of the house. ‘She’s been missing since last night.’

‘Yes, you filed a missing person report.’

‘That was Mom. She’s out looking all over for Vicky. I stayed here in case she called, or…. Vicky is my sister. I’m Susan.’

‘Ah,’ said Hutch. ‘Do you know what your sister was wearing last night when she went out?’

‘Jeans. A T-shirt. Dark blue T-shirt. A navy hoodie.’

Hutch’s eyes met his. The clothes matched the description of what the victim had been wearing, but they were pretty generic clothes, so it wasn’t complete proof Vicky was their victim. They might have to take someone in to ID her body, and wouldn’t that be a nightmare? 

‘Do you remember who Vicky went out with last night?’ Hutch went on.

‘Yes. Ramona. Her…girlfriend. Why?’

Starsky noted the slight pause, and so did Hutch. What did that pause mean?

‘Susan….’ Starsky tried to compose a question in response to the pause, but before he could do so, Susan interrupted.

‘Please, what is going on.’

‘When will your mother be home?’ Hutch asked.

‘I don’t know. I’m an adult. Please answer me.’

‘Okay. We think we found your sister.’

‘You think? You think? What does that mean?’

‘It means that we found someone who fits the description of what your sister was wearing last night,’ said Starsky.

‘And she can’t tell you… Oh, God!’

‘Yes. We’re very sorry, Susan. The person we found is deceased and we need someone to identify the body.’

‘No. No. Please. It can’t be my sister. I love her. It must be someone else.’

For the second time that day, Hutch was holding a crying woman in his arms. How many more before the day was over? Oh, Hutch was strong in so many ways, Starsky had no fears on that score. Sometimes his emotions could overwhelm him, though, and Starsky needed to be prepared. 

They could hear voices outside. At least two people coming up the walk to the door. ‘Mrs. Scott. I’m so scared,’ said a young voice. More candidates for the position Susan currently occupied? Starsky adored Hutch’s big heart and comforting arms, and didn’t begrudge them to anyone who needed them, at least on a temporary basis. He just didn’t want his lover to be eaten alive before their first day working together was over.

Two people walked in the open front door. One was an older version of Susan. Clearly her mother. The other was a young Latina girl, about 16. She was crying. Going to be next on Hutch’s hug list, for sure. 

‘Mom? Ramona? These police officers are…they told me….’ Susan broke down crying before she could finish the explanation. 

‘Police?’ said the older lady. ‘Have you found my daughter?’

‘Have we found Victoria? Maybe,’ said Hutch. ‘Please sit down while we explain.’

‘No, no, no, no,’ Ramona cried. ‘I knew something was wrong. Oh, God! Vicky. Baby.’

‘Ramona, please. Why don’t you go home and let us….’

‘Go home? Go home? How can I?’

‘Roni? Sit down here, okay?’ Susan had vacated Hutch’s big blond arms and was leading Ramona over to the couch to sit down beside her. Thank goodness. Starsky wasn’t good at comforting strangers, as opposed to Hutch who seemed created for it, though of course Starsky would have stepped in if necessary. 

‘Suze, what’s going on?’ Ramona begged. 

‘How about if everyone sits down while we explain?’ said Starsky. ‘We know this is upsetting, but we have to get through it.’ Maybe we’re not handling this very well, he thought, but it was their first time. 

‘Ramona? You were out with Vicky last night?’ Hutch asked.

‘We went to a movie, then back to my place. My family was out, when we got back, so…Vicky didn’t leave for home until later than…she still should have gotten home in time, though.’

‘Why did you keep her out so late?’ asked Mrs. Scott.

‘I didn’t keep her out. Vicky wanted to spend time with me. We had it all timed so she could get the bus home and make her curfew, like she promised. But the bus was late.’ She turned to Hutch. ‘I walked her to the bus stop. It’s just a half a block from my home. I wanted to stay with her until the bus came, but it was late. She wanted me to go home, so finally I agreed. I ran home, ran up to my room. I can see the bus stop from there. But when I looked out my window, she was gone. I figured the bus came and picked her up, but I never saw it as I ran home. It made me shiver, for some reason.’

‘Ramona. All of you,’ Starsky took a deep breath. ‘Please listen. This isn’t certain yet. We need someone to come to the station and give us an ID, on a body. It’s possible….’

‘A body? A body? My Vicky? No, please,’ Ramona begged. ‘Please tell me this is a joke.’

It’s not, thought Starsky. No joke at all. His eyes met Hutch’s. This is going to be even harder than I thought, if what I suspect is true, about Vicky and Ramona.


	8. Chapter 8

The police morgue was always a scary place, thought Starsky. Even if, as Hutch pointed out, the dead weren’t usually anywhere near as threatening as were the living, there was the reminder of how fragile human life was. How easily it could be taken from you and those you loved. One day you could be walking around on top of the world, knowing you had someone to belong to, and then the next day you could be walking into the morgue to identify their body. One day the one you loved would be alive and breathing. Warm and responsive. Giving and receiving love. The next day….

Okay, that was morbid, thought Starsky. But when the evidence of this truth was right before your eyes, it was hard to ignore. 

Ramona had insisted on coming with them, along with Susan and Mrs. Scott. Hutch wanted to drive, and Starsky thought it might give him an outlet for his feelings over the case, so he agreed. As he relaxed into the car seat, Starsky realized that for the last few hours he hadn’t actually thought about his lover, because Hutch was right there. 

He could look and listen, and even touch a little. No PDAs on the job, but he didn’t need them. A light touch on the arm, or to rest his arm over the back of the car seat was enough. It was like he was living inside Hutch as his environment, instead of vacationing in it, as he had been for so long. The experience was overwhelming. 

The thought of losing….

No. Keep your mind in the present. Do your job.

They got out of the car. Hutch offered to lead the women into the morgue, and they followed. Starsky came along as the rear guard. Watching them all. Watching Hutch especially, because something told him his lover was the most vulnerable of them all. It seemed a bit illogical, but it was true, nonetheless. The women were about to learn the truth of whether they had lost a daughter, a sister, a possible lover. If that were so, it would seem theirs would be the greatest pain. But people would sympathize, would offer support and comfort. Everyone would expect Hutch to be professional. Catch the murderer. Put it all out of his mind and go on to the next case.

Starsky knew Hutch was incapable of putting it all out of his mind. When those monsters had tortured him, they had deprived him of a layer of protective skin. More than one layer, actually. Hutch had no buffer between himself and the pain and suffering of others, except to shut himself down and act like a robot. But when he offered comfort to others, that barrier was destroyed, and it was like Hutch took the pain of those others into himself. 

Over the last few years, Starsky had learned how to deal with the results of his lover’s self-sacrificing nature, but this case looked like becoming the worst scenario yet. At least he was involved from the beginning, rather than having to piece together the puzzle when Hutch came home like a big open walking wound.

Starsky knew Hutch wasn’t the only cop to suffer from his police work. Many officers became alcoholics, or drug addicts. Or they became cold and distant and nearly inhuman. He and Hutch had something those other officers didn’t – each other. Yes, police officers had families, wives and lovers, who helped. But with them, if they could work together, they would know all about each other’s pain from the start, and they were learning how to deal with it. 

Hutch led the women into the little waiting room next to the morgue. Starsky went to check on whether the corpse was ready for viewing. And it was. Wonderful, he thought. At least let’s get this over with. For a moment he felt guilt about his own coldness, then he went to the waiting room and watched Hutch giving comfort, and tearing himself up inside. I must stay cool and distant, he thought. I need to hold onto my strength, so I can give it to him later. 

Starsky led Mrs. Scott into the viewing area, while Hutch stayed with Susan and Ramona. The morgue attendant drew back the sheet. Mrs. Scott stared at what could only be described as remains. Starsky had not seen those remains close up, so they even shocked him, and he was not surprised when Mrs. Scott’s knees gave way and he had to hold her up. He was not surprised when she screamed and sobbed and then turned away to be sick. He was not surprised when she finally moaned, ‘I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s her or not. I can’t. I can’t swear it’s her.’

Starsky held her and comforted her as best he could, but he didn’t have Hutch’s ability to take her pain into himself and give back strength. He could only do that for his lover. ‘Hold on,’ he managed to say. ‘I know this sounds cold but hold on for your daughter’s sake.’ He added, ‘And for Ramona’s sake. Did you know?’

‘Know? That they’re more than friends? Yes. I didn’t exactly….’

‘You didn’t approve?’ Starsky drew back and looked at her, and he knew his eyes were cold but couldn’t help it. ‘That’s tough, Mrs. Scott. That little girl is going to be suffering at least as much as you and Susan are.’ And aren’t I sensitive, he thought.

But something seemed to gather itself behind Mrs. Scott’s eyes. She drew herself up proudly. ‘I said I didn’t exactly understand, and maybe I didn’t exactly approve, Detective. But I loved my daughter, and Ramona is a sweet girl. I can be strong for her.’

Starsky nodded. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry for being so curt with you. This is a hard case. A hard thing to go through for all of us.’ He led her back to the waiting room and announced that the identification was not certain.

‘Why not?’ Ramona cried. ‘Why? What’s the problem? Oh, God. Let me see her. What did that monster do to her? My beautiful girl. Vicky!’ She tried to run to the viewing room, but they all caught her and held her back. ‘Why won’t you let me see her? Why?’

Hutch took her in his arms and looked into her eyes. ‘Ramona? You love her, right? And she loves you. Hang onto that love. Let it make you strong. Remember her as… as beautiful and loving you. Let us deal with everything else. We’ll identify her another way. Let Mrs. Scott take you home, okay?’

Ramona nodded and relaxed in his arms for a moment, to let Hutch lend her his strength. Then she lifted her head. ‘There is a way you can check,’ she said. ‘Unless he destroyed that too. She has a little mark. A strawberry mark. Right here.’ She put her hand down low on her belly, near to her pubic bone. ‘It’s strawberry coloured and shaped like a heart. She said…she said it was my heart….’ Then she just seemed to fold up into Hutch’s arms.

Hutch raised his head and looked at Starsky, clearly unable to move or say a word. ‘I’ll check,’ said Starsky. 

The attendant lifted the sheet. There was the little heart. Ramona’s heart, thought Starsky. And he almost lost it. Only knowing that Hutch needed him kept him together.


	9. Chapter 9

 

‘….So, if you want to talk…if you need anything…any way we can help…here’s our number at the station.  You can leave a message and it will reach us at home…. we can’t give out our personal phone number.  But don’t hesitate to call if we can help.  Okay?’ said Hutch.

They had driven the women home from the morgue, but Hutch was caught in his self-sacrificing comforter mode. Starsky needed to free him from that soon.

‘What’s going to happen next?’ asked Mrs. Scott.  ‘When can we….?’

‘The body won’t be released for a few days,’ said Starsky.  Ramona made a small sound, like an animal in pain.  The sound seemed to rip a new layer of skin off Hutch, and Starsky felt the result in his own body.  He looked at his lover, and saw that Hutch was as pale as a ghost. 

Mrs. Scott seemed to notice, too.  She got to her feet, looking very concerned.  ‘Can I get you men some coffee, or….’

‘No,’ said Starsky.  ‘We’re on duty and we just got a text from the station.  We have a lead in this case we have to check out….’ He tugged at his lover’s arm, walking to the door, continuing to blithely lie. Though it wasn’t entirely a lie.  They did have that lead they were going to investigate this evening -- the strange phone calls.  Hutch needed a break before then. 

‘Come on, Babe,’ said Starsky, leading Hutch to the car.  ‘Harry just texted me.  He suggests we take a break, and then get back to work about six. We can go home, get some rest, something to eat.’  He let his voice get deeper. Suggestive.  ‘Make love,’ he said.  Hutch looked up at him, a little more colour in his face.  He nodded, and folded himself into the passenger seat.

Their love was deeply physical. Deeply sexual.  But it didn’t end there.  Physical love was the wellspring from which they both drank deep healing drafts, but it didn’t end there.  Deep underground rivers of love sprang off from the main current and meandered through their hearts and souls and minds, not just their bodies.

Starsky was inured to the dirty jokes about homosexuals.  Hutch never was. Starsky knew the truth about the pain Hutch felt when people spoke of any kind of sex as dirty. To Hutch, sex was sacred, and making love was a religious act.  They both knew that belief would be mocked if expressed in public, but in private, in their own bedroom especially, they performed an act of worship every time their bodies joined.

As now. 

Starsky could feel his lover vibrate as they walked up the stairs to their own apartment.  Barbara and Marcia were out, working.  Starsky hung the warning sign on the door, a copy of the movie poster from Jaws.  It meant: Beware all ye who enter here. 

But he drew Hutch into their bedroom, as well, just to be on the safe side. He drew the heavy curtains, so the room was in semi-darkness, and pulled the comforter off the bed so he could turn down the blankets and top sheet.  He took off his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt and reclined on the bed, looking up at Hutch with hooded eyes. He had left his holster on. ‘Strip,’ he said. 

Hutch stared for a moment, his eyes going dark, receptive to any order Starsky might give him.  Then he shrugged off his own jacket.  Starsky pointed to Hutch’s holster.  ‘Off,’ he said.  Hutch slid it off and put in down on a bedside chair.  ‘Go on,’ said Starsky. 

Hutch unbuttoned his shirt and let it slide off his shoulders.  He bent to unzip his boots and kicked them away.  His pants slid to the floor, and his briefs joined them. 

There had been no artistry in his undressing. There never was.  Hutch didn’t need art.  His body was a work of art, but he didn’t know it.  Starsky understood that by now.  His beautiful lover could never accept his own beauty.  But Starsky would never give up on trying to teach him to accept it. 

‘You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen,’ he said now.  ‘See what you do to me?’  He unzipped his jeans, and let his erection spring up, free and proud.  ‘Come here to me,’ he said.

Hutch came to him, and his own cock grew hard and erect.  He bent and kissed Starsky’s cock.  Starsky stroked his soft white-blond hair for a while, while Hutch enjoyed himself, but then he eased Hutch back among the pillows.  ‘Lie flat,’ he said.  ‘Look up in the mirror. See how beautiful you are.’

He took off his shoes and socks, and opened his shirt more, but left it and his jeans on. 

‘You are the beautiful one, Starsk,’ said Hutch. 

‘Thank you, my darling,’ said Starsky, as he reached into the bedside table for the lube.  ‘Put a pillow under your hips.  I’m going to fuck you. You like that, don’t you?’

Hutch sighed a deep sigh.  ‘I love your cock.  I love your hands.’

‘Mmmm.  Likewise.’

Starsky spread lube on his hands and coated his cock with it, then inserted a finger into Hutch’s opening.  ‘Watch me,’ he said.  ‘Watch me do this.’  He pulled Hutch’s legs up over his shoulders.

‘Starsk?’

‘What is it? What do you want?’

‘Just you. Doing this. Do it.’

Starsky slid inside the warm channel, felt Hutch flinch a little.  It had been a while since they did it this way.  He didn’t apologize, because Hutch loved that slight pain when he first entered.  They both sighed and relaxed for a while, enjoying the closeness. Starsky rubbed his chest against Hutch’s because Hutch loved the thick hair that grew there.  Hutch ran his hands under Starsky’s shirt and down his back to pull at the waistband of his jeans.  ‘Off. Off,’ he said.

‘I’m inside you.  It’s too awkward to take them off now,’ said Starsky. 

‘No.  No.  Want you. Want to see all of you,’

Starsky rose up on his knees, pulling Hutch’s hips up off the bed, and began to thrust.  ‘I’m in charge here,’ he said. 

Hutch gave a soft, wordless cry, and surrendered.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short addendum to Chapter 9, though it is formally titled Chapter 10. Pat wanted a climax to the love scene that ends Chapter 9, so here it is. :-)

 

When Hutch surrendered, he surrendered to love, to being given love, all Starsky’s love, on Starsky’s terms.  It was never easy for him, and Starsky knew that.   Hutch wanted to be in control, perhaps needed it, when it came to the giving of love. 

When Hutch surrendered to love, he threw his head back, exposing that long, elegant throat as he had that first time Starsky had fucked him.  He had been afraid that time, his responses damaged by the monsters who had hurt him.  They had damaged all his responses to love, making him uncertain, making him feel unworthy, making him feel ugly and unlovable, so that they could impose their own agenda on him.  But Hutch was determined to train himself to be open to love.  He made himself open to love by an act of will.  He put himself entirely in Starsky’s power by an act of will, even now.  Starsky wanted him to just relax and accept love as his due.

As Starsky rose up on his knees and began to thrust, he chanted the litany of his lover’s beauty, as he had so often.  He wanted Hutch to listen, to hear every word and believe it.  He wished he could find words that were worthy of his lover.  Were there enough languages, enough dictionaries, enough thesauruses in the world to describe his lover’s beauty?  No.  And that was a tragedy.

Starsky thrust into the hot wet silk of his lover’s body.  He tried to impress his own pleasure on Hutch so that Hutch had it all. 

‘You are so beautiful. The most beautiful man I have ever known.  Take me and use me.  Take everything.  I’m all yours.  Your skin, your hair, your whole body. So delicious.  From the moment we met, I wanted you.  I’ll never stop wanting you.  My love, love, love….’

Did his words mean anything?  He wasn’t Shakespeare.  He wasn’t even a Harlequin author.  Maybe this was why Hutch had trouble believing in his own value.  Without knowing it, Starsky began to cry.  He felt the terrible weight of a sob building up inside, and the terrible knowledge of his failure. He must be strong for Hutch, who needed him. 

Then he felt Hutch’s arms come up around his neck.  Hutch’s own litany of love.  His own endearments.  ‘Hush, hush.  I’m here.  It’s okay.  It was a hard day, but we’re together.  Come on.  Come to me. Come with me.  Let it all go. We’re alive and we’re together.’

Starsky gripped his lover’s beautiful cock.  Felt it pulse in his hand in time to his own pulses inside Hutch’s body.  He gazed down into Hutch’s eyes, almost to the end, when the ecstasy overwhelmed him. Lightning flashed behind his eyes.  For a moment, it was as if they had become one body.  For a moment, the joy of that bonding was too much to bear.  Then they were quiet together and peaceful as they floated in their own world.

Then came the sorrow of having to accept they were two separate beings once again.  Hutch stroked his face, kissing away the tears, gazing into his eyes.  ‘You give me more than anyone else in my entire life ever has,’ he said.  ‘Don’t cry.’


End file.
